


A Body to Fight For

by tetralise



Category: Metroid Series
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gen, Nintendo - Freeform, Science Fiction, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transgender, scifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetralise/pseuds/tetralise
Summary: The surgical removal of her corrupted power suit has left much of Samus Aran's body scarred. With only her ship's computer keeping her company, she grows frustrated while looking for options to regain her former physical form.





	A Body to Fight For

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a one-shot exploring Samus' life after Metroid Fusion, because while the prologue said a physical toll was taken on her body, we've never had any follow-up to show it. I also wanted to explore the idea of her as a trans woman, because in addition to being held as a personal canon by some based on an old interview, it's something that I've adored the idea of and something that I think actually helps strengthen the backstory of the character if utilized.

> //VITALS SCAN COMMENCING.

//BEGINNING CARDIOVASCULAR OVERVIEW. . .  
..  
….  
…. ..  
//RESTING PULSE RATE: 54 BEATS PER MINUTE  
..  
//BLOOD PRESSURE: 117 SYSTOLIC . . . 76 DIASTOLIC  
..  
….  
//CARDIOVASCULAR OVERVIEW COMPLETE. NO ABNORMALITIES DETECTED.

//BEGINNING NEUROLOGICAL OVERVIEW. . .

Through her closed eyelids, Samus sensed flashes of the bright blue lights of the scanners repeatedly gliding past her face. She slowly exhaled. It was standard protocol for her to allow her ship’s computer to perform a body scan post-mission, but she had felt no reason to do so this during this particular outing. It was a simple intel collection, hardly even worthy of being called a “mission”. Still, the computer insisted. It was stubborn like that.

//SCAN COMPLETE. ALL VITALS ARE WITHIN NORMAL RANGE.

The vivid, dancing glow of the scanners shut off, along with the gentle hum that accompanied it. Samus opened her eyes and propped herself upright, beckoning at a small, hovering monitor nearby, which slowly floated in her direction. As it approached, she picked up a large, metal tumbler filled with a deep green liquid and drank from it.

“Let’s review what we’ve learned.”  
She motioned two of her fingers upward in a swiping motion, and the text onscreen began to scroll as she spoke.

“The most blatant solution remains to be inserting X-parasite DNA within the affected regions and allowing it to mimic the healthy cells, while also manipulating telomerase production within the cells; however, this one has a high risk factor… not to mention we’d have to find a way to mute the metroid DNA within my body long enough for the cells to alter.”

The deck was silent for a moment, and the faint beeps and whirrs from consoles across the room felt all the louder in it.

Finally, the ship’s computer spoke up.

“It is also worth mentioning that the Federation Headquarters is unlikely to greenlight such an operation, due to the controversial nature of the procedure as well as the risks involved.”

Samus frowned and waved her fingers to the left; the text on-screen vanished and she began meticulously typing. Several digital windows opened around her, each displaying promising medical facilities in the planetary cluster. “There’s _ got _ to be something I’ve missed…” she sighed, taking another drink from the tumbler.

“Samus,” the computer chimed, “the most advanced medical centers in the cluster are all federation-run. I’ve run the data numerous times and it doesn’t seem that any facility would take on the risk to host a procedure that would help… repair your body.”

“Don’t you think I _ KNOW that?! _ ” Samus spun around, hurling the nearly-empty cup at where the computer’s voice was emanating from; the tumbler bounced off an inactive panel and fell, clanging against the metal grates on the floor. She closed her eyes, her head dropping, fists clenched in her lap. “I… I know… I _ know_, okay? I know how hopeless this is. I don’t need your analysis.”

Were there other humans onboard, the silence that followed would have felt immense and uncomfortable. But there was only Samus, and the cold, impersonal voice of--

“Samus…” the computer began. “... Lady,”

She looked up, tears in the corners of her eyes, but her expression tense and frustrated. “_ Don’t _ ,” she choked. “Don’t you _ dare _ start with that.”

After a moment, she pulled herself upright and left the deck, without a word.

* * *

The bright fluorescent lights of the ship’s bathroom highlighted the newer imperfections in her skin. She tilted her head to the right, allowing the scars on her cheek to be bathed in light.  
Prior to her last major mission her power suit had become infected due to contact with X-parasites, and parts of it had become fused to her body.  
Gently, her fingertips touched the wide, dark scarring on her left cheek. There was no pain; the nerves had essentially been fried. But it was coarse, and none too welcoming a sight. She usually kept her suit on unless necessary, even at Federation HQ.

Samus took the metal clasp at her collar and slid it downward, studying her body in the mirror as her suit fell to the floor around her. On the right side of her neck there was more scarring, barely visible while donning her zero suit-- but as she watched the clothing leave her body, her eyes traced the path of the wounds. From the right side of her neck, down and across her sternum and left breast, ending just above the bottom of her ribcage, the grey-brown trail of scars and grafts taunted her. Her thighs were victims of the surgery as well, though less obviously.

_ Samus… Lady… _

She winced. Maybe it hurt because the computer had no idea what it actually meant to her. She had discovered during her last mission that her computer was outfitted with the mind of her former commanding officer, a man by the name of Adam. The neural networks of scientists, military leaders, and other individuals deemed indispensable to civilization, were more frequently being uploaded posthumously to computer systems, to allow a more human edge to calculation.  
But it wasn’t human. It wasn’t the real Adam. It could never be.

Adam understood her as most never did. He would have understood how important this was to her.

At the academy, she felt isolated from her peers. Her officers emphasized that it was because of her talents, combined with her lack of experience, but they said so without looking her in the eyes. At first, she assumed it was because of the sheer amount of work they had at their feet— COs weren’t known to be warm and inviting, either way— but the theory didn’t last for long.  
Eventually, she began to overhear the things that other soldiers would call her.  
Freak.  
Newhalf.  
Man.

_ They only let her in so we’d let our guard down, _ one said. _ Make us think she’s some exceptional, gifted soldier. I don’t care if she’s got Chozo DNA or whatever, truth is, she’s still just a dude playing pretend. _

None of the COs ever said anything, even if they overheard. Perhaps they felt it wasn’t their place, but more likely they just didn’t care. The only one who ever spoke up was Adam.

It became an in-joke among other troops to mockingly refer to her as “lady”. Sure it was true, but at the same time Samus could tell that it wasn’t sincere from them. _ Is there a problem, _ lady _ ? … You’re in my way, _ lady _ … _

Adam Malkovich took notice of Samus’ tendency to work alone, even on cooperative missions. At first, it wasn’t by choice— the rest of the squadron tended to veer off and leave her behind during assignments. She was capable of handling herself, certainly, but the fracturing of the troops could endanger more significant missions. Finally, he addressed them all, telling them that if they could not work together as a proper unit, they would be recalled from active duty and reassigned for on-station tasks. In addition, during the upcoming reconnaissance and reclamation of a recently-defunct space pirate base, Samus would take the lead position, with the others to report directly to her.

The squadron broke out in scoffs and mutters. _Seriously?_ _. . He’s playing favorites with the—? . . This is unreal, you’ve got to be kidding me . . _

“Are there any objections?”  
The squad fell silent. They knew Malkovich was serious, and to contest him would mean dismissal.

A broken round of voices arose. “Sir, no sir.”

“Are there any objections!” he repeated, firmer. The squad jolted to attention. _ “No sir!” _Down the line, each trooper gave a thumbs-up.

Adam, not one to smile, raised his eyebrows in acceptance and turned to face Samus. “And you? Any objections, lady?”

There was a palpable tension in the room— the other men, at attention, turned only their eyes toward her. She remained stoic, her eyes tracing every inch of her commanding officer’s face. Like every other soldier, she understood that each word that came from Adam’s mouth was as tactful and careful as his military mind. There was no room for nuance, or sarcasm; he was calling her exactly as he saw her, with no sense of derision.

She gave a firm nod and, extending her arm forward, Samus gave a thumbs-down. Not for a lack of understanding, but in an act of playful defiance of the one man who seemed to understand her.

And, to the surprise of the entire squadron, Adam smirked.

* * *

The tears had dried. Samus eyed her body once more. The woman she saw in the mirror was tired, worn; somehow that felt more obvious at a glance than the scarring that covered her.  
She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She didn’t consider herself vain, by any means, but her identity was important to her. Adam knew that too, and she liked that he reclaimed the title “lady” for her— from that moment on, he had been the only one to use the phrase toward her.

The cockpit door slid open quietly, and as Samus entered, several panels lit up to display the information that had been onscreen when she left. Bathed in the orange glow of the primary monitor, she began tapping at the keyboard silently. After several minutes, she called on her computer.

“Adam.”

Without a second’s delay, it responded. “Yes, Samus.”

“Scan through cluster databases for me and compile the most in-depth texts regarding X-parasite and metroid microbiology and genetics. In addition, pull a reference list of procedural texts for stem cell replication of dermal tissue. See if you can find any overlap whatsoever.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

She leaned back and drew a breath, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Actually… yes. Run a scan for surgeons within the cluster who have conducted related procedures within the last several years. Not locations,” she asserted. “Individuals. I already know the Federation itself isn't likely to oblige.”

“May I ask what you’re thinking?”

“Well…” Samus watched the data pour in on a nearby monitor. “We’re going to contact anyone and everyone we can, but…” she sat upright once more.

“If all else fails, we’re going to use the data we have available,” she smiled. “And we’re going to do it ourselves.”


End file.
